


Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf

by valathe



Series: Songbirbs [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, subtle hints of pharmercy, this was supposed to be all fluff and sweetness i don't know what happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 23:30:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11542695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valathe/pseuds/valathe
Summary: Angela seeks out Fareeha after a mission that went horribly wrong, and finds herself in a position she doesn't want to change.





	Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf

**Author's Note:**

> i set out to write this as a short and sweet drabble, just our two birbs being cute dorks. and then it turned into _this_. i don't know what's wrong with me T_T

She wondered how exactly she had ended up here. In this room. In this position. In this _predicament_. All she knew was that today had been an absolute disaster. A true clusterfuck, in every sense of the word. A supposedly routine escort job had horribly backfired when it turned out that it had all been a ploy by Talon to lure them into an ambush, opening fire from concealed position in the middle of the city. They had defeated their attackers, but at a horrible cost. McCree and Lucio had been gravely injured, and none of them got out without some kind of injury.

It all paled in comparison to the sheer destruction their battle had wrought on the city, though. They'd had to leave quickly, before the local military arrived in sufficient force to apprehend them, so they couldn't even render aid to the civilian population. The latest numbers were 45 confirmed civilian casualties, with many more missing and presumed dead.

As callous as it sounded, she'd been more annoyed than anything else at having to leave. She'd spent years of her life in areas ravaged by war or natural disasters, and knew that dead civilians were inevitable. Doctors saw more of death and suffering than anyone else, after all. It was not a profession for the faint of heart, or weak of mind.

What did surprise her, however, was how much it seemed to affect Fareeha. The soldier had done all she could, placed her rockets as precisely as possible, to minimize collateral damage. But she _wa_ s a soldier. Angela just assumed that she, too, would be used to such sights. And only later, when Fareeha had been even more quiet, even more withdrawn than usual, had she realized how jaded she had become. She had completely disregarded how others might not be as good at dealing with such situations.

So she had resolved to check up on the Egyptian. Had walked up to her door after a shower and a change of clothes. Had knocked, waited, and knocked again after not receiving a reply. She _knew_ Fareeha was there, as evidenced by the thin beam of weak light filtering through the gap at the bottom.

“I know you're in there, Fareeha. Open the door, please?”

Silence.

“Fareeha?”

The light had suddenly dimmed considerably, and she had suppress rolling her eyes.

“Alright, I'm coming in whether you want me to or not, so you better be decent!” she'd announced before opening the door. And she'd realized just how misplaced her attempt at levity had been.

Fareeha had been sitting on her cot, back shoved into the corner, knees drawn to her chest. She'd briefly looked at Angela, gaze vacant, before she'd averted her eyes again and stared at nothing.

The blonde had shut the door and slowly walked towards the bed, had gingerly lowered herself down onto it next to Fareeha. Giving her ample time to object, to refuse, to send her away again. She'd leaned against the wall at what she hoped was a comfortable distance, close enough to casually touch, far enough not to do so accidentally. Fareeha had acknowledged her with another brief glance before she resumed staring, eerily still and quiet.

She herself had sat still, waiting for Fareeha to take the first step. Say the first word. Make the first move. It had taken a while, but ever so slowly she had shuffled over, closer, until she'd rested her head on Angela's shoulder. Until she'd started talking, slowly, haltingly.

And now, through a series of readjustments, through shuffling and gradual relaxation, Angela found herself in her current position: lying on her back, with Fareeha's head tucked under her chin, leg thrown over hers, hand lightly grasping her shirt. And then the true predicament started.

“Would...would you sing for me, Angela?” Fareeha whispered, barely audible.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd been caught this off guard.

“I don't...I don't think you'd enjoy my singing.” she replied, in a somewhat self-deprecating manner, all the while running her hand up and down Fareeha's back, slowly and steadily

“Please?” Fareeha urged, pressing herself even closer, and Angela knew she couldn't refuse. Not now. Not _her_. So she thought for a bit, briefly drawing a blank because _when was the last time she had sung to herself, let alone someone else?_

But then a memory sparked, something bittersweet, something that seemed oddly fitting. And so she started, slowly, hesitant, unsure of herself; painfully aware of how she sang most of it off key.

 _Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf,_  
_der Vater hüt' die Schaf',_  
_die Mutter schüttelt's Bäumelein,_  
_herunter fällt ein Träumelein,_  
_schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf._

_Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf,_  
_am Himmel ziehn die Schaf'._  
_Die Sternlein sind die Lämmerlein,_  
_der Mond der ist das Schäferlein,_  
_schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf,_

_Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf,_  
_so schenk ich dir ein Schaf._  
_Mit einer goldnen Schelle fein,_  
_das soll dein Spielgeselle sein,_  
_schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf,_

Only after she'd finished she became aware of the damp spot on her shirt, noticed how tightly Fareeha held onto the fabric, how desperately she tried to keep her breaths from hitching.

“Fareeha...” she began, but was interrupted by a choked “Don't stop. _Please_.”

She had to swallow around the lump in her throat before she turned onto her side, enveloping Fareeha with both arms; drawing soothing circles on her back, tangling her hand in black hair and softly massaging Fareeha's scalp.

 _Funkel, funkel, kleiner Stern,_  
_ach wie bist du mir so fern._  
_Wunderschön und unbekannt,_  
_wie ein strahlend Diamant._  
_Funkel, funkel, kleiner Stern_  
_ach wie bist du mir so fern._

She continued singing until she'd exhausted her very limited repertoire of German children's songs, at which point she just started humming their melodies, continuing her soft ministrations until Fareeha had cried herself to sleep. And even then she went on, humming and petting, until exhaustion claimed her eventually; drifting off with a sense of safety and comfort she hadn't known in years.

 

**Author's Note:**

> utube links to the songs angela sings: [schlaf, kindlein, schlaf](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gqaKD0MyDKs) and [funkel, funkel, kleiner stern](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RQls00aGXx4). they're in regular german and not swiss german, but since mercy doesn't even have a _hint_ of a swiss-german accent ingame i don't give a crap.  
>   
>  also, this ran on repeat while i wrote this: [a lament](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uT9-DgZnYW0) by wreck and reference  
>   
> cheers


End file.
